A Little Bit
by Centerville's Very Own Latvia
Summary: Based on one-shot, A Little Bit by Crystal Kira.  Everyone thought Russia was crazy. Maybe they are right. So then why would one person care enough to help him when he wishes for just a little bit of warmth, sunflowers, etc? RussiaxLatvia
1. Author's Note

The first chapter of this is an author's note, because the story requires an intro of sorts. This story is not my original idea and while it is somewhat of an uncollaborative collaboration, I want to give AS MUCH CREDIT AS I CAN where it is due.

This story started as a one-shot by **Crystal Kira** and after reading it, I loved it so much that I messaged her asking if I could turn it into an actual story. She gave me permission, so here it is.

If you haven't read any of **Crystal Kira**'s work, you need to. She is AMAZING! I suggest _Shatter_. It's the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Anyways, this story is based off of _A Little Bit_. Read it. I guess it is kind of a spoiler, but you don't necessarily know where I am going with it.

Enjoy,

Alexis**  
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**Crystal Kira's profile** – .net/u/1651210/Crystal_Kira

**A Little Bit by Crystal Kira** - .net/s/5876372/1/A_Little_Bit


	2. Crazy

I would like to say that this is reeeeally short. Normally chapters I write are much larger, but I like to stay organized and this story breaks up into pieces very easily. This just happens to be a small piece.

I will be posting the next chapter tomorrow (a.k.a. today, since it is one o'clock in the morning), but I need some sleep now before I end up just having everyone become one with Russia. Muahahaha!

I own none of the plot, because I legally borrowed it from **Crystal Kira**. Go read all of her stories. Right now. Then come back later if you want. I also don't own the characters, no matter how much I wish I did. I do kind of own the details, though? Do I own that, at least? Maybe...? :(

P.S. If anyone would like to be my Beta, I would be more than happy to have one since I know I make mistakes and it would be nice for criticism and for someone to yell at me when I'm slacking and not updating. Maybe with a Beta I will actually finish a story. :/

**Chapter One: Crazy**_  
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_Russia was crazy. Everyone knew that._

_Or at least, they thought they knew._

_Everyone always thinks they know._

_Not many people would approach Ivan Braginski, for the fear that he may snap on them, or do some things to them with that ominous lead pipe that they were always trying to convince themselves was stained with rust, not blood. Others were put off by his terrifying aura, or sometimes his obsessive, overprotective sister, Belarus, Natalia Arlovskaya . Maybe his smile would unnerve them._

_Either way, no one ever tried to befriend him, for fear he might ask that question, "Become one with Russia, da?" It was in vain, though, he'd occasionally ask them all the same._

…:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::…

"Russia-sama," Latvia whined at his master from his position on the bar stool next to him, "Let's just go home. You're drunk."

"I am nothing of the sort," he said in his usually cheery voice slamming another empty shot glass down on the hard oak counter. Latvia had experience with Russia's drinking, though, and he knew by looking at the Russian's pupils that he was drunk.

"Another Vodka," the tan-clad and purple-eyed man shouted to the bartender who promptly ran over and re-filled his glass.

At this point, the shorter of the duo gave up his begging to return home and spun around, leaning against the bar with his shoulders resting on either side of him. From here he could watch what else was going on in the bar.

America was fighting with England over the Juke Box; both claiming the other wasn't playing anything good and that they themselves had the perfect rock song. Italy was insisting Germany teach him how to play darts which Germany was blatantly refusing due to the requests of China and Poland who were poised to jump behind a chair at the first sight of a shark projectile in the hands of the Italian. Lithuania and Estonia were talking rowdily with the Baltics at a table in the center of the room, and Prussia was determined to get Germany to drink a beer. Japan and Korea were probably the only ones being anywhere near calm as they sat at a table in the corner and shared a few words every now and then. The only ones missing from the usual scene were France, who was probably in the restroom making out with someone, Spain, who rarely showed up since he was always on business, and Romano who could never stand to be in the same place as his brother. Glancing behind him, Latvia saw Prussia talking to someone who looked strangely like America and although the blond looked familiar, Latvia couldn't place a name to his face.

As the night progresses, Latvia started to enjoy listening to the shenanigans the other countries were getting into, but he was ready to go home. Turning towards Russia to start his stream of pleas to go home again, Latvia realized that the Russian was no longer sitting at his bar stool. Glancing around the room, he saw him walking towards America who was now talking to England at the table between where Latvia's brothers and the Baltics were sitting and Japan and Korea were sitting.

"Become one with me, da?" Russia asked, somewhat gliding behind America and smiling. Even with the joyous expression, though, a menacing purple aura descended on the room.

The whole bar became silent as all of the countries briskly scooted away from America who found himself faced with that same dangerous question all of the countries had been asked multiple times.

"Sorry, Russia," America said with a forced chuckle, "I can't become one with you because… I'm not in charge anymore. Katy Perry is president now and she hates when it's hot then it's cold, so she wouldn't like having to fly from America to Russia every week to handle business. Too much of a temperature change."

It was always some new elaborate excuse with America.

Jumping up from his bar stool, Latvia hurried over to Russia.

"Time to go Russia-sama," he said, trying to save the smaller countries from the same question America had been unfortunate enough to be asked. Grabbing the tall man's arm, Latvia promptly started pulling him out the door to start the walk back home.

Latvia was relieved that he had shoved Russia out the door quickly, because as he was leaving he heard Poland comment, "That dude is like… crazy."

…:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::…

If you are wondering what that chunk of writing is in italics up there is, that is the excerpt I am using from **Crystal Kira**'s one-shot of the same title. Again, if you completely ignored the author's note at the beginning, you need to go read her work. Even before you read mine because she is a bajillion times better than me. Shoo shoo. Go.

Read and review my story, da?

~Alexis


	3. A Little Bit

It was kindly brought to my attention that Poland's last line in the previous chapter is a little confusing. He is calling **Russia** crazy. I thought I would clear that up. It was also believed that Russia and Latvia are dating. I would like to clear it up that they are not. Latvia is just the only person who deals with Russia's crap. He is like a babysitter. This chapter should clear everything up, though.

So, here it is. Chapter Two. This chapter it also short. :( I think this story will be a bunch of mini-chapters. And **I don't own anything**, like always.

**Chapter Two: A Little Bit**

_Either way, no one ever tried to befriend him, for fear he might ask that question, "Become one with Russia, da?" It was in vain, though, he'd occasionally ask them all the same._

_His presence was much too threatening, despite the much-too-innocent and child-like smile always on_

_his face._

_But if someone were to, for some unfathomable reason, wish to ask him, "What do you want?" the answer would surprise them._

_After all, they expect him to say, "For everyone to become one with Mother Russia," in a cheerful tone, fake smile in place._

_Which he will say._

_The first time, at least._

_If that same person were to not believe him, and pursue him again, repeating the question:_

_"What do you really want?"_

_His features would smooth over, the smile fading, and he would sigh, looking so very, very tired. He would look that person over, then look them in the eyes, almost as if determining whether it's worth the trouble to answer that person._

_That person may falter under his scrutinizing gaze, or decide to say, "Never mind," and leave._

_If that person stays, however, and he considers that person worth it, then:_

_"Just a little," he would reply softly, barely audible._

_No doubt, that person would confusedly ask for clarification: "What?"_

_"Just a little bit," he would repeat, a small, sad, but genuine smile on his face. That person would be stunned, too busy wondering at his rare, new display of real emotion to actually listen to him._

_Ivan would begin to speak again, drawing that person's attention back to him. He would speak gently, longingly, wistfully…_

_"A little warmth._

_A little bit of sunflowers._

_A little sunshine._

_A little safe haven._

_A little bit of compassion._

_A little bit of friendship._

_A little family._

_A little unity._

_A little house on a tropical island._

_A little reprieve._

_A little bit of smiling._

_A little laughter._

_A little happiness._

_A little love._

_A little peace._

_Just a little."_

_He would conclude, give you that childish smile once more, with the faintest glimmers of sorrow hidden in the depths of his eyes, and walk away._

_That person would certainly be in a state of shock, blankness for a moment, as they struggled to process his words._

_Then, as the words sink in, that person would most definitely feel differently towards him. They would feel different, in one way or another._

_But most importantly, they would understand._

_As much as they may be in disbelief, they will know, no matter how hard they try to deny it or convince themselves otherwise, that he had just exposed his heart and soul to them, and he was being so painfully, painfully, honest._

_Depending on the person, they may bolt after him. They may just stare after him. They may just decide to change the way they act towards them. They may just turn and walk away._

_They may have to hide their tears. They may just let them flow freely. They may hide under a mask of indifference while they try to pick apart the situation in their mind._

_They may go after him._

_That person would run, find him wherever he'd gone, and desperately grab his arm and pull him to face them, ignoring the fear that they might startle him into attacking with the sudden contact. He will startle, but no violent feelings or actions would escape him._

_Panting, perhaps doubling over to catch their breath and looking up at him, perhaps words will be tumbling out of their mouths without restraint, perhaps they will be silent, but never letting go of his sleeve, they will just look at him._

_He will be surprised, and return the gaze, blinking expectantly._

_That person may keep rambling, or perhaps, silently, just tug on his sleeve a few times with a watery smile. Or just let go, and after recovering, swallowing nervously, they may just pat him on the back or arm. A more emotional person may just throw themselves at him in a hug, disregarding their well-being. (He will not harm whomever decides to embrace him, however, and that fear should not be present in that person's mind.)_

_No matter what though, they would understand, and he would know. And he would smile._

_A true smile._

**…:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::…**

It was the next day and Lithuania and Estonia still had not returned from the bar. They had probably gone home with someone or were passed out somewhere. Latvia was sleeping in his own bed and gradually started to stir. A few minutes later, he sat up with his eyes still shut and yawned. Blinking a few times to get used to the light coming into through the window he was startled to see someone standing directly next to him. They were so close that they were leaning forward against the bed and towering over Latvia.

Jolting away from the figure with a small scream of surprise, Latvia fell of the bed only to sit up to see who it was while rubbing his now sore head.

"Russia-sama," he exclaimed, instantly recognizing the person, "Don't do things like that. You scared me. What do you want so early in the morning?"

"Become one with me, da?" the Russian asked, with a smile.

Latvia groaned and stood up, exasperated and tired of this question, "I can't Russia-sama. If I did you would have no one to babysit—err, I mean, talk to you."

"Fine," the other man grumbled, exiting the room calmly and not bothering to close the door.

A half an hour later, Latvia was eating breakfast in the kitchen when Russia walked in.

"Good morning, Lati," he greeted the shorter man with a brief smile, pulling out a chair to sit across from him at the table located in the middle of the room.

Giving the Russian a look that clearly conveyed that he was still annoyed about the event in his bedroom, Latvia stood up and dropped his now empty plate in the sink before turning towards the purple-eyed man and commenting, "Good morning. What do you want?"

"For you to become one with me, da," the Russian answered, not missing a beat.

Latvia sighed and clarified his question, "I meant for breakfast. What do you want for breakfast?"

"Oh," Russia said, "What were you eating?"

"I just finished pancakes. Someone taught America, who taught England, who taught Italy, who taught Lithuania, who taught me. They are kind of like thin circles of cake," Latvia explained, since they weren't a Russian food and he didn't know if Russia would know what they were.

"That sounds good," Russia decided. Having already put them away, Latvia began pulling out the ingredients to make pancakes.

Later in the afternoon, Latvia was leaving to go to the market to buy food when Russia appeared next to him.

"May I come with you?" he asked quietly, actually looking unsure—and… nervous?—about what Latvia's answer would be.

"Sure," Latvia shrugged, not really caring if someone was tagging along behind him.

Exiting the mansion they all lived I, they started the silent walk to the marketplace.

Halfway there, Latvia felt the Russian's stare in the back of his skull like the other man had heat vision.

"What?" he asked aggravatedly, spinning around to confront the taller man, something he had only recently gotten the courage to do.

"Become one with me, da?" Russia asked yet again, smiling his usual child-like grin.

"That is the third time today you have asked me that? What is your problem? You never ask that much. Don't you know the answer is always going to be no? What do you really want?" Latvia ranted, staring frustratedly at the Russian. The reaction his complaint got, though, wasn't the one he was expecting.

Russia closed his eyes and his smile vanished from his face. For the first time, he looked tired and, even more unexpected, sad. Suddenly he opened his eyes and looked straight at Latvia. He paused for a long time as if debating whether to answer or not.

"Just a little bit," he mumbled, his eyes almost pleading for the other man to understand.

"What?" Latvia asked, genuinely shocked having never known the Russian to have any other emotions besides anger, and evil (if that was even an emotion and not just a lifestyle.)

"Just a little bit," he said, louder now. And at this comment an almost wistful smile came over his face as if he were remembering a dream. Latvia could only stare, shocked.

"A little warmth," Russia began, his gaze drifting off as he stared at nothing, or perhaps a hope that he could see playing out in front of his eyes. Latvia found it impossible not to listen to the man who was perhaps not as crazy as everyone thought.

"A little bit of sunflowers," he continued, with the same longing expression on his face, "A little sunshine. A little safe haven. A little bit of compassion. A little bit of friendship. A little family. A little unity. A little house on a tropical island. A little reprieve. A little bit of smiling. A little laughter. A little happiness. A little love. A little peace. Just a little."

Latvia watched in his surprised stupor as the Russian smiled, but it wasn't a true smile. It didn't reach his eyes. In that same moment, he turned around and started walking back home with his hands in his pockets leaving Latvia behind, not sure how to react to what had just happened.

Frozen on the sidewalk for what seemed like hours, Latvia muddled over the situation. Almost without thought, he ran after the taller blond who was probably already back at the house now if that was truly where he was going.

Latvia finally turned the corner and stepped onto the road that Russia lived on. About twenty feet ahead of him, the Russian was walking in the same manner to the gate of the mansion.

"Russia," Latvia shouted, finally catching up to him.

Surprised, the taller man started to turn around, but the process was sped up by a hand which grabbed his arm and spun him around. Looking down, he saw Latvia hunched over with one hand on his knee, the other still clinging to his arm, the whole time trying to catch his breath.

Russia was startled by the sudden contact, but his normal feelings of violence were not present, only confusion. He barely noticed that the smaller man was rambling about something. Sometime during the muttering, Latvia paused and stood up, looking the purple-eyed man in the eyes. Russia was surprised by what he saw. He didn't expect Latvia to come after him and didn't expect Latvia to look so.. understanding. What really and truly shocked him, though, was when he felt two arms wrap around him in a warm embrace.

"What are you doing?" he asked, genuinely confused when he was finally able to speak.

Latvia released him from the hug and looked up, smiling, "There. That's the first thing on your list, right? A little bit of warmth."

Russia smiled at this statement. Unlike every other time he had smiled, though, this smile lit up his face. It was the first time he remembered smiling in a long time and it felt good.

**…:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::…**

Chapter Two: Complete! :D

Review? Please? *inserts Italy begging here*

~Alexis


	4. Sunflowers

**It has been forever since I have updated, but here it is. I apologize for the wait. I have no life. I need to stop spending so much time on homework and school. In an attempt to put a little joy back into my life, I decided to write. This story seems to get the most reviews out of all of mine, so I decided to update it first. Enjoy! And please forgive me. T.T**

…**:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::…**

_Either way, no one ever tried to befriend him, for fear he might ask that question, "Become one with Russia, da?" It was in vain, though, he'd occasionally ask them all the same._

_His presence was much too threatening, despite the much-too-innocent and child-like smile always on_

_his face._

_But if someone were to, for some unfathomable reason, wish to ask him, "What do you want?" the answer would surprise them._

_After all, they expect him to say, "For everyone to become one with Mother Russia," in a cheerful tone, fake smile in place._

_Which he will say._

_The first time, at least._

_If that same person were to not believe him, and pursue him again, repeating the question:_

_"What do you really want?"_

_His features would smooth over, the smile fading, and he would sigh, looking so very, very tired. He would look that person over, then look them in the eyes, almost as if determining whether it's worth the trouble to answer that person._

_That person may falter under his scrutinizing gaze, or decide to say, "Never mind," and leave._

_If that person stays, however, and he considers that person worth it, then:_

_"Just a little," he would reply softly, barely audible._

_No doubt, that person would confusedly ask for clarification: "What?"_

_"Just a little bit," he would repeat, a small, sad, but genuine smile on his face. That person would be stunned, too busy wondering at his rare, new display of real emotion to actually listen to him._

_Ivan would begin to speak again, drawing that person's attention back to him. He would speak gently, longingly, wistfully…_

_"A little warmth._

_A little bit of sunflowers._

…**:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::…**

It was a peaceful morning in the Braginsky household. A small amount of grey light diffused through the thick curtains and a small clock ticked away on the wall. As if awakened by a silent alarm, the figure concealed under a mass of covers stirred, rolled over, and sat up, placing his feet on the floor beside the bed at exactly 7:00 sharp.

Although one would think to find the figure clad in only an undergarment of sorts or perhaps nothing, they were fully dressed in a pair of khaki slacks, a white fleece sweater and a scarf wrapped loosely around their neck.

Upon the bedside lamp being flipped on, the figure was illuminated and found to be Russia. Standing up from the bed, he crossed the dimly lit room on his already sock-covered feet and entered the restroom. After relieving himself and washing his hands, Russia looked in the mirror just long enough to tousle his hair into a somewhat less messy heap and exited his bath and bedroom, shutting both doors firmly behind him.

This had been his routine for years and he always completed these tasks in 5 minutes sharp. After all, Russia was a punctual person. Such habits had been instilled into him years and years ago. However, despite the typically normalcy and almost redundancy of his mornings, for what seemed like the first time in forever, there was a change in the typical decor of the hallway outside if his room. More than that, though, because it even smelled different.

Right outside his door, so close he had almost stepped on it, was a single sunflower. It was a beautiful gold which contrasted perfectly with the tan if the seeds and the green if the freshly cut stem. Bending down, the Russian grasped it tentatively between his fingers before lifting it to his face as he rose to his full height. He inhaled deeply and a small smile played at his lips, but never formed.

Letting his hand drop to his side, he proceeded down the hall to the stairs which led to the entrance hall. Wrapped up in the wonder of how the sunflower had gotten in front of his door, the Russian did not notice the vases scattered on tables throughout the entrance hall. When he looked up, however, he was baffled. Each decorative table on which pictures or figurines were placed now housed one or even two vases filled with gorgeous sunflowers. The air in the room was absolutely saturated with the warm aroma. It was no wonder the upstairs hall smelled like the flowers. The scent had probably diffused through the whole house.

Walking over to one if the vases, Russia admired them with great interest. They all seemed to be perfect. Each petal unaffected by bugs and the stems kept the flowers standing up straight. Determined to find the source of the decorations, Russia left the entrance hall and walked into the dining room. Here he found the most elaborate centerpiece created from sunflower petals and seed in a large clear bowl with candles matching candle protruding from the center. He went through room after room, each one filled with vases of sunflowers or decorations with a sunflower theme. In none of the rooms, though, did he find anyone to account for such decor.

Finally, he decided to check outside to see whose vehicles were in the driveway. Lately, the Baltics had taken to hanging out at other nation's homes and staying for days at a time and since each of them had their own vehicle, the automobiles in the driveway would give Russia a good idea of who was home or at least in town. Upon opening the door, it became clear that two or the three in the trio were not home. Lithuania's car was missing along with Estonia's. However, Latvia's Vairogs V8 "De Luxe" was sitting in the driveway. When he realized whose car this belonged to, however, Russia was a little confused. After all, he had passed the nation's bedroom on the way down and it had been empty. He had not been found in the rest of the house either.

It wasn't until now that Russia took the opportunity to look around the yard. He had not noticed at first, but even the yard was changed. The previously bare flowerbeds and boxes were now filled with many different types of sunflowers. Short ones occupied the window-boxes while ones of medium and large height were planted in the garden surrounding the house. The yellow and brown of the plants complemented the green shutters and white siding of the house wonderfully. However, even after looking around the yard he still could not find Latvia. As he walked around towered the back of the house, though, he saw a small figure clad in red sitting beneath a tree. It was here he found the little nation with hands and knees caked in soil and a smudge of mud on his right cheek. He was leaning against the tree asleep.

Under normal circumstances, Russia would have woken the country up, but from the look of the work done on both the inside and outside of the house, he figured Latvia had only been asleep for an hour or two, so he instead picked him up and carried him inside the house where it was warmer.

Russia was surprised by how light and tiny the other nation was. It was at that moment, though, that the Russian remember why.

~~~

It was 1970 and the Soviet Union had just invaded Afghanistan, but the talk of rebellion was spreading through the countries behind the Iron Curtain. Russia and his boss Mr. Khrushchev had started cracking down on the revolts. 600,000 troops had been sent to Prague to squash a mere student led rebellion. In contrast, all of Afghanistan had just been conquered with a mere 100,000 troops and the Soviets had been fighting the Americans and Mujahedeen in addition to the Afghan army. They were desperate to keep their republics and satellites firmly behind the curtain and in their grasp.

"You will never leave me, right Lith?" Russia asked the shorter nation with the air of hopefulness a child would have asking Santa for a new toy.

"I-I-I won't leave," the Lithuanian said, fear contorting his face and words.

"You won't either, will you Estonia?"

"O-o-of course no-o-ot," the Estonian said with a forced smile that ended up just looking pained.

"Latvia?" the Russian asked expectantly, turning to the smallest nation.

"I would never leave, Russia," he replied somewhat timidly like a little dog expecting to be kicked.

"Good," Russia said, pressing down on Latvia's head heavily.

~~~

For his whole existence as a country, all Russia had done was push the other nation down to keep him from growing up-to keep him from becoming strong enough to leave. Only now did Russia realize how weak the other country was, how drastically his constant oppression had affected the nation now being carried with the greatest gentleness by the much larger nation.

It didn't take long for Russia to stride into the house and instead of walking all the way to Latvia's room, he lightly deposited him on the couch in the living room and removed a blanket from the hall closet which he covered the small body lying feebly on the couch with.

However, as Russia turned around and exited the living room, he heard a quiet rustle and yawn followed by a soft voice from behind him.

"Mister Russia?"

Spinning around, Russia looked at Latvia who had swung his legs over the side of the couch and was rubbing his eyes with his hands with blankets tangled around his legs, looking very much like a small child.

"Good… ah… good morning," Russia muttered, not used to friendly greetings.

There was an awkward pause before Russia spoke again, "Was it you who placed all these sunflowers everywhere, Latvia?"

"Yeah," the small nation replied in mid stretch, "I wanted to surprise you when you woke up."

Russia paused in shock. No one had ever done anything for him like that. He was labeled as insane-no one ever wanted to be around him.

"Why?" Russia mumbled, stumbling over his words, "Why would you do something like that for me?"

Latvia smiled before standing up and crossing the distance between Russia and himself before looking up at the taller man and hugging him briefly.

"Isn't that the second thing on your list?" he asked, "A little bit of sunflowers."

Russia had allowed the smaller nation to hug him, not really returning the embrace, still surprised.

"I guess it was," Russia admitted softly, "I'm not so sure this is just a _little bit_ of sunflowers, though, Latvia. Did you cut down a whole sunflower field, Lati?"

Latvia laughed cheerfully, placing his hands on his hips, "Why only settle for quality when you can have quantity too?"

Without meaning too, that one little statement reminded Russia of his rule under the dictators of the 20th century. He remembered Lenin's gulags, but mostly the collectivization farms established by Stalin. In an attempt to make the Soviet Union a world superpower, the crazed Stalin forced wealthy soviet farmers-kulaks-onto mass farms where conditions were harsh and they worked long efforts. All in an effort to produce the maximum food possible to support the nation. Many died. Fourteen and a half million to be exact. All of them innocent Russian citizens. It was one of the many atrocities Russian blamed himself for. How could he not? He lived through it and did nothing to stop it. That was why he was not worth the compassion of others. He was nothing but scum. Not worth a thing. He had failed his people-his comrades and he would pay for it for an eternity and be grateful, for he deserved much more.

Latvia's smile faded from his face as he saw Russia's eyes glaze over. It was clear that he was not in the present anymore. He was reliving a very different time. A time that was not as hopeful as this one. Thinking about what he had said, Latvia realized his faux pa. Even he remembered the time he was sure Russia was recalling. It was a year after Latvia had become recognized as a country and a few years after the Romanovs'-the royal family who had ruled the Soviet Union for centuries-removal from power in the Russian Revolution. A man named Vladimir Ilyich Lenin who had led the Bolshevik forces in the Revolution had emerged victorious and took power as dictator of the USSR. He placed into work the ideas of Communist philosopher Karl Marx and set up the first concentration camps to take care of those who did not follow his ideals. That was the beginning of the the Soviet Union and it rose out of blood.

After Lenin's death in January of 1924, a power struggle for dictator ensued, but it was the man who Lenin had warned not to allow to take the office of dictator who, in the end, won after years of violence. He was a strong leader and wanted to surpass the United States in power by defeating them in the Cold War. To do this, he decided that the Soviet Union needed a firm financial and economical base. All over the USSR, collectivization farms were set up which were similar to labor camps that the Nazis were using during WWII and in a way paid tribute to Lenin's gulags. Millions died in the collectivization farms meant to increase food production. In the end, though, food production decreased by 25%. At the end of World War II, paranoid of a possible revolt of the returning soldiers against himself, Stalin had them all sent to gulags in Siberia. Between this continued use of gulags, the labor farms, the Second World War, and the Great Purge, and the famine in Ukraine, 20 million people had died under the reign of Joseph Stalin.

Although things got better under the reign of future dictators like Nikita Khrushchev, and Mikhail Gorbachev, Russia the country, and certainly Russia the person was never the same again. They were scared, and labeled by the rest of the world as a monster.

Scared for both the man standing in front of him and his own well being, Latvia placed his hand on Russia's arm.

"Mister Russ-" Latvia was cut off by a hand gripping his throat. His fingers flew to the hand, trying to pry it free to restore air flow to his lungs, but it was no use. Compared to Russia, he was too weak. He felt himself being lifted from the ground, his feet dangling in the air now. He was eye level with the nation in front of him who just moments ago had a small smile dancing behind his eyes. Now the same eyes were black holes-never ending depths that seemed to suck any joy right from you. They could be described with one word. Insane.

Using the last air he had left, Latvia tried to choke out a plea, "Russia… it's not… real. What you're… seeing."

With no air left, Latvia's vision was being invaded by black splotches. Without warning, though, Russia blinked and dropped his hold on the smaller nation's neck. Sucking in large amounts of air, Latvia stumbled backwards to dodge any more possible blows, but when he looked up, Russia was simply standing there like a stone, staring at the breathless country.

"I am sorry. I must go," Russia mumbled before turning quickly and flying out of the door, closing it with a slam.

…**:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::…**

**TADA! Here it is! A little bit of sunflowers. Aww… you're so sweet, Latiii! 3**

**I am sorry Russia went bat shit crazy at the end. I want this story to be about him getting better and recovering from his past, so he has to go through conflict. **

**On another note, this chapter is helping me study for my test in school over the Soviet Union! All facts and figures given here on Russian history are correctly incorporated from my notes. Most of the numbers are debated by historians as there isn't exact record, so please DO NOT comment saying, "50 million people died under Stalin!" or whatever. I will ignore your comment and probably get a little pissed, because you should have read this little rant. **

**Anyway, you don't have to review, although I will be honest, it is the reviews that encourage me to update.**

**So… review, da?**

**~Alexis**


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